Mirror of Erised
by BookwormDragon
Summary: A collection of Harry Potter one-shots and Plot Bunnies. Rated for Language, Violence.
1. Not Oliver Twist

Not Oliver Twist  
by BookwormDragon

_**Disclaimer**__: Neither the Harry Potter Universe nor any of the Characters in the Harry Potter Universe belong to me. No profit is made from this story on my part. No copyright infringement is intended._

* * *

Petunia swept up the shards of glass on the floor, and stared thoughtfully at the remaining knick-knacks. Funny how she had practically forgotten about them until the Boy had broken one while trying to get away from her little Dudley, who had only wanted to play with him a bit.

Even though she had yelled and sent the Boy to his cupboard without supper, she was secretly rather pleased. She had always hated the ugly things, but they had been a gift from her in-laws, and couldn't be thrown away without giving offense. She had no idea how she had managed to overlook them for so long, but now that one of the set was broken, perhaps she should just get rid of them all? Her mother-in-law had passed last year, and Vernon probably wouldn't notice if they were gone, anyway. If he did, she would just say that she had packed them away for safekeeping. Yes, that would work perfectly. The rest of the ugly things joined the broken one in the bin, and when the Boy took out the trash the next day, the house was unwittingly cleared of certain magics that had been left behind to insure that things went as they were meant to (1).

The next two weeks saw a gradual but marked change in the attitudes of the elder Dursleys toward both of the children living under their roof. Suddenly, Dudley's 'little tantrums' were no longer as cute as they had once been, and Petunia realized that neither Vernon nor Dudley were "big-boned", they were FAT! Portions re-sized themselves to something more reasonable, Dudley experienced a 'time-out', and Harry's life improved dramatically.

Dudley's toy room was cleaned out, any unused toys were given to charity, and a nice toddler bed was moved in. The cupboard under the stairs was once more used for its proper purpose: storing mops and cleaning supplies, and Harry gained his own bedroom, with a proper bed, soft bedding, and his own dresser full of properly fitting clothing. He still had chores to do, but they were now simple and age-appropriate, and Dudley was also expected to do his fair share.

Petunia had no idea what she had been thinking, keeping a child in a cupboard, practically starving him, working him like a slave! They were decent folk, not some sort of monsters out of Oliver Twist, for goodness' sake! Looking back at their behavior since her sister's death was horrifying. How had they turned into such monsters? And the worst part was the way they hadn't even noticed what was happening until recently!

Without Harry working himself into exhaustion everyday doing the housework, Petunia decided to hire a twice weekly maid service, since she also disliked housework. Fortunately, she was easily able to pay for it out of the household budget, using the money saved by eating smaller portions of healthier food and by not indulging Dudley's every whim. With the housework taken care of, she was able to spend more time doing things she enjoyed, like reading, cooking, sewing fashionable clothes, and playing with the children. She began to teach them both to read and write their letters, and was pleased and proud at how quickly they picked it up, especially Harry. She put a stop to Dudley's budding bullying, teaching both boys how to play nicely with each other. She also rejoined the New Mothers ladies group at her church - for some strange reason, she had left it shortly after Harry had been placed with her - and found her new friends to be most supportive of her efforts to be a better mother and person.

* * *

(1) Charms had been placed to encourage the Dursleys to believe what they wanted to believe, and to continuously strengthen the illusions that they all had about each other, especially if they were based on strong emotions. So, when Petunia or Vernon had had a passing frustrated thought that whatever small misfortune that had occurred in the course of the day was all Harry's fault, they began to really believe it, even against logic, morals, and reason. Likewise, a passing prideful thought that their son was wonderful grew into a true inability to see his faults. An apathy charm was also placed - negative feelings would not grow so deep that they would actively attempt to kill or grievously harm the perceived cause of their problems. They could still cause injury through inactivity and neglect, however. Finally, a notice-me-not/someone-else's-problem charm was placed with the figurines as the protected items. Each charm was attached to a specific Figurine. When Harry broke the Figurine, the notice-me-not charm that was attached to it broke as well. And, because he was magical himself, he was able to actually remove the figurines from the house since his magical aura overwhelmed the mild anchoring charm. Had Petunia taken out the trash, she would have found herself rescuing and replacing the Figurines, suddenly deciding that she wanted to keep them after all. Whether or not those who charmed the Figurines had any malicious intent is not clear: they could have simply been unaware of how the various charms would interact with each other and the environment in which they were placed.

Author's Note: This was a response to reading several stories in which Dumbledore or someone else cursed the Dursleys so that they would treat Harry badly. I thought - that's a little unrealistic. Why? Because if you're Dumbledore and you want to mold Harry a certain way, setting him up to be grossly mistreated is an iffy proposition - you run the risk of turning him into a sociopath instead. Better to let nature take it's course and deal with the end results as necessary. Besides, Dumbledore has spent most of his life in the Magical World, and, from his point of view, living without magic is a great enough hardship as it is. But what if he wanted to smooth the way? Not out of the goodness of his heart or anything, but simply to make his own life easier. So he casts spells that should make the Dursley household a calm and emotionally comfortable place for Harry to grow up in and to help the Dursleys accept Harry and deal comfortably with his bouts of accidental magic, but he forgets to consider how these spells might interact with each other, and how they might mis-function. Result - Evil!Dursleys. In reality, being as evil as the Dursleys are often portrayed takes real effort on their parts. I've always thought that a general apathy on their part would be more realistic.


	2. Real Life

Real Life  
By BookwormDragon

_**Disclaimer**__: Neither the Harry Potter Universe nor any of the Characters in the Harry Potter Universe belong to me. No profit is made from this story on my part. No copyright infringement is intended._

Warning: Mild, non-explicit slash within. Harry/Ron.

* * *

Ron sighed in lazy contentment as he watched a spectacular sunset through the enchanted window, while his husband of five years snuggled beside him, splitting his attention between the scene in the window and the book he was reading. After a busy and tiring day of working two jobs and chasing an active four year-old and twin two year-olds around their house, Ron was thankful for the opportunity to simply relax and rest his sore muscles, a feeling which would have been almost incomprehensible to him back when he was 15.

It still amazed him sometimes, how much his life had changed since the 'Great Escape', as he sometimes referred to it privately. He had gone from a well-meaning but nonetheless naive, sheltered, and immature child to a Husband and Father of three. From believing that he and Harry were invulnerable and immortal, and that it would all 'work out right in the end', to a more adult understanding that there are no guarantees in life, no such thing as a free lunch, and that pain – both physical and emotional – is an unavoidable part of living. From believing that love and magic could fix anything, to knowing that a real relationship – a real marriage – takes hard work and perseverance, that you can fight and disagree with someone and still love them, and that not everything can be fixed, magic or not. He had learned, sometimes the hard way, to swallow his pride, especially when it came to money. Pride would not pay for the Healer and the expensive potions needed to help Harry recover from nearly fifteen years of systematic abuse and neglect and to keep him and their unborn child healthy, nor would it put food on the table, a roof over their heads or clothes on his children's backs. Of course, they weren't entirely dependent on Ron for these necessities, Harry did his best to contribute as well, but between the condition that he had been in right after the 'Great Escape' and the added strain of an unplanned pregnancy – well, he had been in no condition to hold down a job. And by the time his health would allow it, Rose had been born. Eventually, Harry had qualified for a Level 3 Brewer's license, and had gotten a job brewing potions on commission for a local chain of apothecaries. And wasn't that just a kick in the pants to that Greasy Git, Snape! Apparently, Harry was a lot better at potions when he had a good teacher and a proper work environment. Fortunately, they had moved into their new little house with the built in Lab (took up most of the room, but they agreed that it was necessary) by that time he had gained his license, so he was able to do most of his commissions at home, which meant that they didn't have to pay someone else to watch their daughter.

Unfortunately, just as they were settling in and beginning to show signs of relative prosperity, the Weasley Curse (1) had struck again. They had been very careful (although certainly not celibate!), since their Healer had been most adamant that Harry would not be able to safely carry another child for at least ten years, as his body needed all of his available reserves to mend the damage inflicted by his childhood, but the Curse was not to be so readily thwarted. Unable to take the easy path and re-impregnate Harry, it had turned its attentions to Ron, who had, much to his embarrassment, actually fainted when he had found out that he was expecting triplets. Triplets! Apparently, The Curse hadn't taken kindly to their attempts to avoid it! Not only had his pregnancy given him a totally new appreciation for what Harry, his Mother, and women all over the world went through, it had also made it necessary for him to take a leave of absence from both his job as a Level 4 Apprentice Warder and his job in the Magical Sporting Goods warehouse. Without Harry's job and the enormous garden that he had insisted on having, Ron knew that there was no way that they would have been able to survive, never mind keep up the mortgage payments on their newly acquired house and property.  
He had learned to despise beans, oatmeal, and that cheap muggle mystery meat – Spam. Yuck. Nasty stuff, no matter how you fixed it. He wasn't too fond of peanut butter or tuna anymore, either.

His pregnancy had also been his first brush with true sorrow and loss. He had given birth to two healthy sons, who were sleeping comfortably upstairs in their nursery at this very moment, and one beautiful daughter, who had drawn her last breath only an hour after her first, and who now slept forevermore under the earth in their newly christened private cemetery. Both he and Harry had come closer to giving up and returning to England and their family and friends at that time than they had at any other time before or since. Ron had wanted his Father and Mother so badly. Only the knowledge that, since they were still minors according to the Laws of Magical England and would not be considered of age until they were twenty-one, the Ministry would try (probably successfully, given the state of politics there) to take their remaining children away from them, had prevented Ron from sending an owl telling his parents to come and take them home. He had still been very tempted several times in the months following the twin's birth – the death of their sister had been very difficult for them, since magical twins and triplets almost always formed a very tight mental and spiritual bond with their natal siblings, even in the womb. He was just thankful that their Healer had made the necessary arraignments as soon as possible, or it could have been much worse. Within hours of little Lily Martha's death, Greg had found a mind Healer to come and finish severing the Bond between the twins and the soul of their dead sister, and a Priestess of Diana to come and perform the Sacred Rites and Sanctify the ground of their new cemetery. This had been necessary to prevent Lily Martha from becoming a Ghost, tied to the Mortal Plane by the Soul Bond with her brothers. While Ghosts were usually welcomed in the Magical World, allowing an infant to become a Ghost would have been an unimaginable cruelty, since they would never age or mature beyond their death and so would spend their entire existence hungry, alone, and denied a parent's comforting embrace, yet unable to understand why this was so.

* * *

(1) The Weasley Curse: Weasleys can get just about anything they marry pregnant, despite contraceptives, lack of previous fertility, and/or gender.  
Unfortunately, the magic of the curse isn't interested in the Social Trappings of marriage (i.e. saying vows & registering with the Government!), but in the emotional and magical manifestations of marriage. Couples/Pairings only need to consider themselves (even sub-consciously) to be in a permanent relationship with each other, and their innate magic responds to that, bonding them magically and thus triggering The Curse.  
The Curse uses the participants' magic to affect whatever changes are necessary in order to carry out its main goal: absolute, unavoidable fertility. The Curse is capable of feats that even modern Magical Healing cannot otherwise replicate with 100 success: replacing missing organs (example, if a woman had her womb and ovaries removed, the curse could, and would, replace them), healing damage from curses and hexes, creating compatibility where there is none naturally (example, between different species who are normally not capable of reproducing with each other - Veela, giants, etc.), and creating a completely new system in the case of male/male or female/female pairings.  
One can therefore be outwardly male and yet have the proper organs to nurture a pregnancy. Or a female can develop the necessary organs to father a child. Etc.  
Laying the curse on a person or family line is not easy. You will not find sixth (or seventh) year Hogwarts students walking around cursing each other with Absolute Fertility. The curse is complex, requires A LOT of power, and is often illegal or highly restricted in the modern age. Even your average fanon super!Harry couldn't cast it successfully - it's ritual magic, requires multiple casters, etc.

**Author's Note**: This is the first (only) part of an unfinished story that I wrote during my earlier years in the Harry Potter Fandom.  
It is a response to several variations of the 'Independent!Harry, escape from Dumbledore/The Ministry/Voldemort, run away from school' clichés. I thought, what would it really be like to be an unskilled, very sickly boy, far away from your support network, with little or no money and no way to get more, running from such powerful authority figures? Answer: Not so good. BTW, Harry & Ron are hiding under assumed identities in America, although I haven't written that part of the story yet.  
Also a response to the 'Harry & his truw-wuv get married/bonded while still teenagers and live happily ever after' cliché. I chose Harry/Ron for the pairing because I love them, and I do intend a happy ending, but I wanted to show a little more realism while getting there. So, while they love each other, we see their struggles with their situation, learning to live with each other, learning to swallow their pride, growing up in general, etc. In a way, I am mirroring Arthur & Molly here, setting it up so Ron will look back one day and say "OMG! I've become my parents! I swore that would never happen! And even worse, I'm happy with it!"  
Also, a response to MPREG in general. Having all males capable of bearing children changes a society's dynamics in a way that most writers don't take into account. So, I needed a way to get Harry preggers without totally re-writing Magical Society, gender roles, etc.  
And finally, to answer the question: Why doesn't everyone/infants/young children, etc become ghosts when they die?


	3. Sex Change Potion

Sex Change Potion  
by BookwormDragon

_**Disclaimer**__: Neither the Harry Potter Universe nor any of the Characters in the Harry Potter Universe belong to me. No profit is made from this story on my part. No copyright infringement is intended._

* * *

"There are potions that can permanently change you into a girl, of course," said Fred.

"Yes," agreed George. "And potions that can turn a girl into a boy as well."

"But they are very heavily regulated by the Ministry," continued Fred. "You have to see a Mind Healer and undergo months of counseling and fill out loads of forms to even be considered for a Ministry Exemption."

"And have at least three Healers give signed and sworn statements saying that the potion is necessary for your mental health," added George. "Only a Ministry Licensed Potions Brewer can even brew the potion, and then only if the client has the Ministry Exemption Certificate right there."

"And they have to actually brew the potion in a special Ministry Lab," finished Fred. "Because the formula is kept in the most secure Ministry Vaults and never released to the general public. Owning a private copy of the formula is highly illegal – worth at least 10 years in Azkaban."

"But why all the restrictions?" asked Harry, puzzled and intrigued by this glimpse of Wizarding life.

"Because the potion is permanent and irreversible," George answered.

"Once you use it to change your sex, you are stuck as that sex for the rest of your life. Trying to use it again to switch back will only result in a fatal poisoning because of the buildup of one of the main ingredients," added Fred.

"Yeah, when it was first invented, there were no restrictions on its use, and several Wizards and Witches eventually committed suicide after taking it as a lark. They just weren't able to handle the full implications of changing their sex," explained George.

"It was also a favorite way of stealing or confusing Inheritance Rights during the Family Feuds," continued Fred. "Some very important Family Lines completely disappeared because of it."

"Yes," agreed George, smirking evilly. "People would slip the potion to their male enemies on the sly, turning them into girls and denying them any Familial Inheritances."

"Girls couldn't inherit?" Harry questioned.

"No," explained Fred. "Well, they could inherit some things, like certain amounts of money and some kinds of property, but not things like Noble Titles, and Ancestral Lands."

"That's true even now," added George. "Girls can inherit almost anything now, certainly a lot more than they could back then, but there are still a few things, like the Titles and the entailed Ancestral Lands that they can't inherit unless there are absolutely no male heirs, no matter how distantly related."

"And even if a girl is the only possible heir, she doesn't really inherit anything," finished Fred. "Instead, she holds the Inheritance in Trust for her eldest male son, and is only permitted very limited powers as his Regent until he is of age."

"But how would that end a Family Line?" asked Harry, confused. "Wouldn't her son simply continue the Line?"

"Not really," replied George. "Her son would bear the name of her husband, not her family name."

"For example," said Fred. "If you only had a daughter, and there was no possible male Heir for the Potter Line, if she married Draco Malfoy's son –"

"Not that she ever would," interrupted George.

"But if she did," continued Fred, glaring at his twin. "Then her oldest son would inherit the Potter Title and Ancestral Lands when you died, but his last name would still be Malfoy, not Potter, you see?"

"So," added George, sticking out his tongue at Fred. "When Ickle Malfoy-should-be-Potter had a son, he, your great-grandson, would inherit both the Potter and the Malfoy Titles and Ancestral Lands, and so on down through the generations, essentially combining the two estates into one."

"Meaning that for pretty much all intents and purposes, the Potter Line would disappear," completed Fred, triumphantly.

"So, turning your enemy into a girl was a very effective – and cruel – way to defeat him." George snickered. "Sometimes, you might even be able to force him – um, her – to marry you and carry your children, basically stealing the inheritance right out from under his – her – nose. A very mean and sneaky way to totally break your enemy!"

"Yeah!" agreed Fred. "Too bad you can't do something like that to old Voldie!"

Harry shuddered.

"But that would mean that I would have to – you know – with him! How can you even suggest such a thing, Fred? Gross!"

* * *

**Author's Note: **This was an exercise in writing dialogue, as well as a response to 'magical people can change their sex whenever they like, thanks to the wonders of potions' cliché. I wanted to know why, if they could do it, they didn't do it? Why not change your sex like you change your hair color or robes? This little scene was the answer.


	4. The Sound of Hope

The Sound of Hope

by BookwormDragon

_**Disclaimer:**__ Neither the Harry Potter Universe nor any of the Characters in the Harry Potter Universe belong to me. No profit is made from this story on my part. No copyright infringement is intended._

* * *

When Petunia Dursley found the little brat abandoned on her doorstep like a wayward piece of garbage, she wanted nothing to do with the Thing. If it wasn't for her fear of what the neighbors would think, she would have left It on the doorstep to freeze to death.

Unfortunately for Petunia, she projected the façade of a good, Christian woman to her neighbors, and good, Christian women did not leave babies out on their doorsteps to freeze to death. It simply wasn't done.

And so she was forced to bring the disgusting Thing into her perfectly clean and normal house, with her perfectly wonderful and normal family. She had hoped that she would be able to turn the Thing over to social services and never see It again, but the letter that had been left in the Thing's basket thwarted her once again. Petunia may not have been the smartest woman in the world, but she certainly wasn't stupid. She understood perfectly well what that letter was really saying. Either she took the Thing into her home and raised It alongside her wonderful little Dudley, or she wouldn't need to worry about having either a home or a family to live in it with her.

For the first few weeks, Petunia treated the Thing much like she treated her own son. Granted, she offered It no affection or comfort, but she saw to Its physical needs and allowed It to sleep in an old crib in Dudley's toy room. Caring for two toddlers was an exhausting experience, especially since she went out of her way to keep the Thing from having too much contact with her little Dudley; she didn't want to give It any chances to infect her Duddikins with Its abnormality. Matters were only made worse by the fact that Dudley became rightfully jealous whenever he saw his Mother paying any sort of attention to the Thing, and began to indulge in temper tantrums and crying jags whenever he felt that she wasn't paying enough attention to him.

In all fairness, the Thing was actually reasonably quiet, spending most of Its time either sleeping or watching Its surroundings with those unnaturally green eyes. After that first day, It quickly learned not to expect any comfort from her, and from then on only cried when it was hungry, wet, or in pain. Still, between her son, the Thing, and keeping her home neat and her husband happy, Petunia was beginning to feel rather worn around the edges. She even went so far as to put away the clean towels without ironing them first! She didn't dare neglect the Thing, but Dudley deserved to have her full attention and her husband deserved a clean and tidy house to come home to. What could she do, except short herself on sleep to get everything done?

And then, one day, as she was playing with her precious Duddikins, hoping to get him to go down for a nap, It began to cry for attention and she ignored It until It stopped. When she realized what she had done, she rushed to attend Its needs, worried that They would appear at any minute and hurt her precious son as punishment for her neglect. She waited and waited, growing more fearful by the hour, but They did not appear. In fact, no matter how she treated the Thing, They still did not appear. And so, the little green-eyed, black-haired toddler became a permanent resident of the Cupboard Under The Stairs. Petunia did not dare go so far as to actually attempt to kill the Thing, however, and so provided the bare minimum of care necessary to ensure that It lived. Nevertheless, once It had been moved to Its rightful place, life became much easier for Petunia. No longer did she actually have to interact with the Thing or allow it to be around her wonderful Dudley, now she could simply shut It into Its cupboard between feedings and ignore it.

It wasn't until the Thing was a little older that Petunia realized that she could be getting some use out of It. In a way, this realization saved Harry's life and sanity. Until now, he had had very little interaction with others, and so behaved more like an animal than a person. But now, Petunia brought him out of his Cupboard and began to teach him how to behave in her presence and how to carry out the tasks that she gave him.

Almost immediately, she ran into a roadblock to her plans. Apparently, the Thing had been damaged in some way before It was left with her, for It was clearly an Idiot. It was unable to understand her when she spoke, and indeed, did not even notice that she was speaking unless It was looking right at her. In the end, she was forced to resort to hands-on demonstrations and basic gestures to get her meaning across. Although this meant that she had to clearly demonstrate each task she wanted done, and then assign a specific gesture to the task for future reference, in the end she felt that it was worth the extra work on her part. The Thing was hard working and determined, required very little supervision as long as It was doing familiar tasks, and never forgot a task or gesture once she had explained it. This allowed her to spend more time with her son and her circle of friends while still keeping her house and family in good order, which made it possible for her to preen and act the part of the perfect wife and mother before her peers. In fact, she began to conceive of herself as something of a Lady-Of-The-Manor, since she now had her very own servant, just like a gentle-woman of the previous century might have had. She taught the Thing to serve her and her family and to never forget Its place, and out of the goodness of her heart she gave It a place to sleep, the scraps from her table to eat, and allowed It the honor of wearing her precious son's hand-me-downs as clothing. And as the Thing grew older, stronger, and more capable, she spent more time and effort molding It into the perfect slave: efficient, quiet, obedient, respectful, and in all ways subservient.

In short, despite being forced to have the Thing under her roof, Petunia Dursley was quite content with her life. Occasionally, a little voice in the back of her head would whisper, _What will They do if They ever find out?_, but it was easy enough to push that voice aside and enjoy her life and her family. They hadn't done anything so far, now had They? If They had objected to the way the Thing was being treated, surely They would have done something by now? No, chances were that They were glad not to have to deal with an Idiot, and grateful to her for taking It in and teaching It useful skills.

By the time he was five, Harry was doing as many of the household and garden chores as his small stature would permit. Basically, he was doing the work of at least one servant, if not two. The house was sparkling clean and the garden was always neat and tidy, thanks to his efforts. And now that he was tall enough to see over the top of the stove if he stood on a chair, his Aunt had begun teaching him to cook as well.

Of course, Harry did not know that she was his Aunt, as he did not, in fact, even know his own name. He thought of his Aunt as The-One-Who-Gives-Orders, his Uncle as The-One-To-Avoid or The-One-Who-Hits-Hard, and his Cousin as The-One-Who-Makes-Messes. Naturally, he actually thought of them in concepts, not words, but that is the closest translation of his thoughts as can be managed. As for himself, while he was aware that he was a separate entity, he did not really have a thought-concept for himself. He simply Was. The closest thing that he had to a name for himself was the gesture The-One-Who-Gives-Orders made when she wanted his attention. This gesture had evolved from her practice of cuffing him lightly (for her) across the face when he was younger in order to get his attention, but he had since gotten good at dodging and so it had morphed into a slapping-hand gesture in front of his face instead of across it.

It was when Dudley and Harry were six that Petunia's comfortable life came crashing down around her, or at least so it seemed at the time. Dudley, of course, had begun classes at the local Primary, but it had never occurred to her to send the Thing as well. After all, the Thing was an Idiot, barely able to understand the simplest of instructions, what use would It have with School? It couldn't even speak properly, for goodness' sake, but simply made animal noises, a habit which she had trained out of It long ago, to save her ears and to keep It from teaching bad habits to her Dudley. So it was something of shock for her when she opened her door one morning to find a policeman and soberly-dressed young woman standing on her doorstep.

"Mrs. Petunia Dursley, of Number Four Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, England?"

"Yes?"

"May we come in?"

"My husband...my son...is something wrong? Has something happened to them?"

"As far as I know, Madame, your husband and son are perfectly fine. We are here on another matter, may we come in?"

"Oh. Yes. Yes, of course, please come in. The sitting room is right this way, please. May I get you anything? Refreshments? Tea, perhaps?"

"No thank you, Mrs. Dursley." After refusing refreshments, the policeman turned the conversation over to his companion.

"Mrs. Dursley, I am from the Children's Protective Services, and I am here today because a concerned citizen has reported that you have a school-age child living here who is not enrolled in School. Naturally, we investigated, and found that on Insert Date, you did, in fact, claim that one Harry James Potter, the son of your deceased natural sister, was indeed in your custody. Apparently, on the night in question, you stated that young Harry had accidentally fallen down the stairs while wrestling with his cousin, and had broken his arm. The descriptions that we found in the Hospital records of the child match the description given to us recently, and his birth certificate indicates that he is old enough to be attending School. Additionally, we have found no record of a Harry James Potter of Number Four Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, being enrolled in any school in England." The young woman, who had so far given Petunia no opportunity to speak, took a deep breath and continued, asking, "Mrs. Dursley, where is young Harry, and why hasn't he been enrolled in School?"

Looking back, one might determine that Harry Potter had either the best or the worst Luck in the world: His parents were killed before he was two, but he survived, he was sent to live with abusive relatives, he was somehow injured in the same incident that stole his parents, he was unable to speak or to understand others when they spoke, he lived in a Cupboard, he acted as an unpaid servant for his blood relatives, and so on. And now, once again, it was only sheer luck that brought about the greatest, and perhaps most positive, change in young Harry's life to date. As was his usual routine, after washing the morning dishes and cleaning the kitchen, he had been sent upstairs to tidy the bedrooms, change and make the beds, and clean the bathroom. After he finished that, he was to report back to The-One-Who-Give-Orders for further instructions, which is why he just happened to walk into the sitting room directly after that fateful question was asked, and before Petunia had had a chance to open her mouth and deny everything.

* * *

**Author's Notes**: First, the views implied above are Petunia's, not mine. Later, if more of this story is ever written, we will see a more positive view of Harry, and of Deaf culture and society.  
This story was inspired by my year of studying American Sign Language at college. Our teacher (who was Deaf) taught us a great deal about Deaf Culture, and this story was an exploration of what I had learned. Most of the Deaf Culture part of story remains unwritten, but the premise is simple: The Crown (Government) discovers that Harry is Deaf and that his guardians haven't been providing for him adequately, and sends him to a Residential School for the Deaf, where he can learn the skills he will need to thrive in a Hearing world. The Magical Authority of the Crown (if you want to know more about my world-building theory concerning the Crown and its influence on Magical Life, just let me know) conflicts with the power of the Wards meant to protect Harry, so he ends up spending summers with his relatives despite their previous treatment of him, but their influence over him is actually quite limited - his social worker is rather frustrated that her constant efforts to place him in a better home continue to fail for no apparent reason, and so keeps a very close eye on his situation. At the School, he learns to sign, makes his first friends, learns to have healthy relationships with others, and to assert himself in a positive manner, and to be more than his Aunt's slave. Then the Letter comes and... you get the idea.  
As for the Social Worker's little speech - it's her first field visit and she's very nervous, so she practically memorized it beforehand, which is why it sounds rehearsed and unnatural. :)


	5. Cruel Mercy

Cruel Mercy

By BookwormDragon

_**Disclaimer:**_ _Neither the Harry Potter Universe nor any of the Characters in the Harry Potter Universe belong to me. No profit is made from this story on my part. No copyright infringement is intended._

**Warning:** Character Death.

* * *

Harry took the cup trustingly from the hand of his mentor and swallowed it quickly, grimacing at the bitter taste. Setting the cup back on the Headmaster's desk he asked, "How will that help us defeat Voldemort, Professor? It tastes nasty! What is it?"

Albus Dumbledore looked gravely at the tired young man before him, seeing the signs of grief and sorrow enshrouding the too-thin figure.

"I am truly sorry, Harry, I had hoped that I could spare you this." For once, the Headmaster's eyes were not twinkling.

"Sir?" Harry swayed and stumbled unsteadily towards a nearby chair. For some reason he felt very faint and the room had suddenly begun to spin. A wave of dizziness overcame him, causing him to collapse weakly into a nearby chair.

Impassively, Dumbledore watched as Harry's emerald eyes sought him out, and he struggled to speak again, "Sir? W-What...?"

"I have not told you the whole truth, Harry, and for that I truly am sorry," Dumbledore sighed sadly. "The night that Voldemort killed your parents, he had intended to use you to create his final Horecrux, as the murder of an innocent child would have created a very powerful Horecrux indeed. I'm sure that you have wondered why he sought you out after hearing part of the Prophecy, thereby fulfilling it? The truth is, he did not believe that it was you that the Prophecy spoke of, for your mother was a Muggleborn, and he was sure that there was no way that you could ever be considered a true threat to him. No, he sought you out because he intended to use your death to create his final, most powerful Horecrux, before attacking the one he believed the Prophecy truly spoke of: Neville Longbottom. As you know, things did not go as he had planned that night, which resulted in the loss of his body and most of his powers. Unfortunately, he had already completed most of the rituals needed in order to use your death to create a Horecrux, and when you somehow cast him out of his body, the magic he had raised sought out the nearest suitable vessel to contain a fragment of his soul: You."

Harry licked his lips weakly and stared at his Headmaster, horrified. "M-Me? But...the Prophecy?"

"Yes Harry, you. The first part of the prophecy was quite accurate. The rest, however, was rather different than you were led to believe. It was a simple matter for me to alter the memory - and thereby the meaning - of the other parts without you detecting it. Ones' memory is not a very reliable tool, after all. It is all a matter of perception."

"But...why?" Harry's confusion was evident.

"I wanted you to have a chance at a normal life, Harry. I had hoped that it would not come to this. Alas, Fate is rarely thwarted. Sometimes sacrifices are necessary for the Greater Good, no matter how distasteful those sacrifices may be. The fate of one versus the fate of many, if you will; a painful but rather obvious choice, when you consider it. Not to worry, my dear boy, the poison that you drank is painless and reasonably fast-acting and it should only be a few more moments before you will simply slip into a sleep from which you will not awake. Remember what I have told you, child. Death is simply the next Great Adventure, no need to fear it."

Rage filled Harry as the light slowly faded from his eyes, and he struggled to say something more, but Death's silent embrace overtook him before he could form the words.

...

Dumbledore rose and walked over to where the small body lay. Waving his wand in a complex pattern, he cast an obscure spell that would remove the poison from the body, leaving no apparent cause of death behind to be found. He then banished both the cup and the poison that had been returned to it, dropping them into the center of an active volcano somewhere in the Pacific, a strategy that had served him well in the past when he had needed to dispose of certain, ahem, sensitive items. For a moment he looked sadly down at the body, before he visibly shook himself and strode over to the fireplace. Fixing a concerned and slightly panicked look on his face, he used the floo to contact the infirmary and inform Madam Pomfrey that Harry had suddenly collapsed and that, despite his best efforts, he had been unable to revive him thus far.

...

In a corner of the office, unseen by mortal eyes, the Spirit of Harry Potter watched as various Wizards and Witches hovered over his physical remains, casting spell after spell in a fruitless attempt to revive him after his "inexplicable collapse." He was still somewhat shocked and numb to it all, but by the time that they had finally accepted the inevitable and prepared to remove his body, he was practically glowing with rage. Indeed, had mortal eyes been able to perceive him, he would surely have blinded them with the intensity of his emotions.

...

In a country manor somewhere Unplottable, Severus Snape felt the bracelet that he wore under his sensible woolen sock begin to pulse rhythmically, first cold and then hot. Without hesitation, he raised his wand against his Dark Master, and cast the Killing Curse with all the force of his not-inconsiderable hatred behind it, following it up with a Flame Curse normally used to incinerate corpses before burial. Even as Voldemort's body slumped on his throne and burst into flames, Snape was slipping his free hand into one of his voluminous pockets and activating the portkey secreted therein. He disappeared from sight, but not before being struck by several stunners, a crucio, and three cutting curses, courtesy of his fellow Death Eaters.

...

Harry watched as a concealment spell was placed over his body before it was levitated solemnly out of the Headmaster's tower. By the time it was gone, he was almost incandescent with the rage caused by this most horrible betrayal. That is, he would have been incandescent if any mortal eyes could have seen him in the first place. As they could not, they merely perceived the sudden unnatural chill that settled over the Headmaster's office, a chill so deep that it seemed to freeze a person's very soul.

Even the Headmaster himself felt suddenly unwelcome in this place that had once been his sanctuary. The icy chill bit deeply at his tender conscious, reminding him of the unshakable trust that had always been evident in the now-dead child's eyes whenever he had looked upon the man he had regarded as a beloved Grandfather. Indeed, Dumbledore wondered if he would ever be able to step into these rooms again without seeing those green eyes looking at him so trustingly. Somehow, he doubted it. He had done what was necessary for the Greater Good, but the sacrifice required had been more painful than he had anticipated. Perhaps he should look into obtaining a new office and sleeping quarters elsewhere, so that he would not have to be tormented by the constant reminders of his own duplicity. Yes. He would look into the matter as soon as it was seemly to do so.

...

From their perch in one of the small towers, Ron, Neville, Luna, and Hermione stared bitterly down at the jubilant Wizards and Witches partying on the lawn below them. People from all over Britain had begun arriving as soon as the news was out, and it didn't look like they planned on leaving anytime soon. The house elves had moved the tables out of the Great Hall, lined them up down on the beach, and kept them overflowing with food and drink. Four different wizarding bands had set up in the different corners of the huge lawn, and the cacophony of sounds that drifted up towards the tower was head-ache inducing. Not that that seemed to bother the people down on the lawn any. There were so many people down there dancing that it looked liked one huge, undulating mass. It made Hermoine want to puke. Or maybe start hexing them. She hadn't quite decided yet. How dare they rejoice when Harry was dead! Didn't they care that their so-called Chosen One was dead? Oh, she knew that they didn't care that Harry was dead, but you'd think that they'd at least have the decency to mourn The-Boy-Who-Lived, their Chosen One! So what if Voldemort was dead? It didn't mean that everything would be alright now. After all, none of the Death Eaters had been apprehended, so they were still free to spread their poison without fear. In fact, she wouldn't be surprised if some of them were down there right now, rejoicing in the downfall of their Lord and pretending that they had never even heard of the Death Eaters. But worst of all, Harry was dead and nobody seemed to care except the four of them. Once the Magical World had had no further use for him, they had thrown him away without a second glance.

...

As Harry watched the jubilant wizards and witches from his new home in Dumbledore's old office, he too felt his anger rise. Mind you, the reason that he was angry had less to do with the hordes of strangers celebrating the death of a feared enemy, and more to do with the kindly old grandfather figure who was even now holding court, acting modest with just a touch of sorrow, as was proper, but managing to preen under the attentions of the mob just the same. Dumbledore! Pretending to grieve for Harry, all the while knowing that he had died by Dumbledore's own hand, his own treachery and betrayal! It made Harry see red just thinking about it. At least he had managed to drive the old man out of his own office and quarters. It had only been a week since Harry had become a ghost, but he had been a quick learner. So far, he hadn't managed to make himself visible to the living yet, but he had grown quite adept at changing the ambient temperature of the air to make his emotions known, as well as moving objects about whenever he pleased. This was actually a bit unusual, according to the other ghosts. Most magical ghosts had little trouble making themselves visible to the living, but few could actually interact with objects on the mortal plane. Even in Death, Harry couldn't manage to be normal!

* * *

**Author's Note**: This was written before Deathly Hallows was released, in a response to the many Harry-must-die-before-Voldemort-can-be-killed stories. I wondered what Harry himself might think of the situation, especially a Harry who had had a horrible and painful childhood. This is the beginning of an answer. Eventually, Harry will confront Dumbledore & the Wizarding world, questioning whether or not Dumbledore's act of mercy toward Harry when he was a baby (not killing him immediately, but allowing him to grow up), was, in fact, merciful at all, thus the title.  
This story is not meant to espouse a particular set of views or politics, but rather to explore a what-if in a fantasy world.


	6. Moony's Thoughts

**Moony's Thoughts**

By BookwormDragon

_**Disclaimer**__: Neither the Harry Potter Universe nor any of the Characters in the Harry Potter Universe belong to me. No profit is made from this story on my part. No copyright infringement is intended.

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_

"But – but doesn't Moony hate Wormtail and want to kill him?" asked Harry, surprised.

"Well, not exactly," Remus explained with a sigh. "Oh, don't get me wrong, Moony understands that Wormtail needs to die, but his motivations for it are almost entirely different from mine."

"What do you mean?"

"You need to realize, Harry, that Moony doesn't really understand human concepts like Revenge or Betrayal. As far as he is concerned, the only reason that one of the Pack would lead predators to the Den and allow them to threaten the Cubs is because of a sickness of the mind. Insanity, humans would call it. From his point of view, Wormtail is insane, his insanity threatens the Pack, and therefore, in order to protect the Pack, Wormtail must die.

But Moony doesn't _want_ to kill him, he feels no need to seek vengeance because that's a purely human concept that he doesn't really understand or feel. Instead, he views Wormtail's death as a necessary part of protecting the Pack – like fighting a disease.

No, Moony won't hesitate to kill Wormtail the first chance he gets, but he'll make it quick and clean instead of drawing it out or tormenting him. In fact, he's far more likely to kill Wormtail outright than I would be.

_I _want Wormtail to go to Azkaban and suffer for his crimes – suffer like Padfoot was forced to suffer, but Moony sees such confinement as the ultimate cruelty and my desire to inflict it as a form of mental sickness on my part. Moony doesn't really think in terms of punishing Wormtail, he just wants him dead so that his insanity can't threaten the Pack any longer.

In many ways, he is far more merciful and humane than humans will ever be. And yet they call _us_ the monster."

"So Moony isn't angry at Wormtail?"

"Not like the Human part of me is, no, he's not. Actually, I think that Moony mourns for Wormtail – the Wormtail that Peter used to be before his mind sickened, that is."

"Is that how Moony felt when everyone thought that it was Sirius who had betrayed my parents?"

"Very much the same, yes. But Moony's grief for Sirius was a bit different, mostly because his relationship with Padfoot was different then his relationship with Wormtail. Really, that whole time was so difficult for Moony because not only was Padfoot insane, but the rest of his Pack was dead except for you, and you had been hidden from him.

We spent most of our time trying to find you, and each time we failed it just made it that much harder for him to keep on. Full Moons were unusually harsh for both of us for a while. I think he blamed me for the failures, so he took it out on our body whenever he could."

"I was hidden from you? I thought that you knew that I lived with my Muggle Aunt? And why did Moony want to find me so badly?"

"Cubs are the most important part of a Pack! Of course Moony wanted to find you! As the only remaining adult of the Pack, it's his job to take care of you and protect you. In a wolf pack, only the Alpha pair usually has cubs – everyone else in the Pack helps take care of the cubs as if they were their own. James and Lily were the Alpha pair of our Pack, so Moony thinks of you as his own son. You are all that he has left of his family, and he wants to be with you to love and protect you. You are Our Cub and we love you! Never doubt that, Harry."

"Why did you leave me at the Dursleys', then?"

"It wasn't my – our – choice, Harry. By the time I had received word of what had happened and managed to return to Britain, Dumbledore had already placed you with them and had gotten a retro-active Writ from the Wizamgot to uphold the placement.

I begged and pleaded, but it did no good. There was no way that they were going to allow you to be placed with a Werewolf, and the anti-werewolf legislation that had been recently enacted simply gave them a good excuse to refuse. That, and the fact that Petunia was a blood relative while I was not. They finally refused to even hear my appeals anymore."

"So you gave up?"

"NO! I never gave up, never! Once it was clear that the Wizemgot was determined to deny my appeals, I went to Dumbledore, hoping that if I could get him to sponsor me, the Wizemgot would change their minds. But he refused, saying that you would be safest with your Aunt. So I asked him to arrange for me to visit, so that I could make sure that you were being taken care of properly – your Mother had told me about Petunia and Vernon's manaphobia, you see, and I was afraid that it might affect how they took care of you."

"Manaphobia?"

"Fear of Magic."

"Yeah, that sounds like them – they're absolutely obsessed with being 'normal'. But why don't I remember you visiting me?"

"That's because I didn't visit you, Harry. Dumbledore wouldn't allow it. He said that Petunia had agreed to take you only if no wizards came near their house until you got your letter. He wouldn't even tell me your address so that I could watch over you from a distance or send you gifts. He kept claiming that it was too dangerous."

"But why would it be dangerous for you to visit me? You're not a Death Eater, you wouldn't hurt me!"

"He never would say, exactly. He kept implying that it was because I was a Dark Creature, but he never actually came out and said it."

* * *

**Author's Note:** This is my view of what Remus should have been like, taking into account his dual nature. Wolves and humans have many things in common, but not everything. Too bad he turned out to be just another disappointing adult in the books.


	7. Blame Game

**Blame Game  
**By BookwormDragon

_**Disclaimer**__: Neither the Harry Potter Universe nor any of the Characters in the Harry Potter Universe belong to me. No profit is made from this story on my part. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

_

"It's all Potter's fault!" Snape snarled.

Harry was getting sick and tired of people saying that, as if he was personally responsible for everything that went wrong in their lives. Snape's comment was simply the last straw.

"How the Bloody Hell is it my fault?" he snarled back, getting right up in the man's face. "I didn't cause Voldemort to become the Dark Lord and go bloody insane! Hell, I wasn't even born when that happened!

And I'm not one of the pitiful sheep who allowed him to rise to power, cowering in their homes like a bunch of cowards while expecting someone else to save them! I certainly didn't make any bloody prophecies about his downfall and I wasn't the one who ran and told him all about it, either, now was I? Come to think of it, I didn't make him run out and fulfill the prophecy, either. No, he managed to do that all by himself, now didn't he? And it's not like I give a damn about this Blood Purity nonsense either.

I didn't start this war, and I sure as hell didn't ask to fight in it, but I'm not going to lie down and die just because I'm apparently offending your delicate sensibilities!

I may not have started this, but I'm sure as hell going to finish it! If you've got a problem with that, we could settle it right here and now, if you think your wand-work's up to it! Otherwise, why don't you just sit down and shut up, I'm fed up with your pathetic whinging!"

* * *

**Author's Note: **When it comes to certain incarnations of fanon!Snape, this confrontation is one of my fondest dreams. You said it, Harry!


	8. Herding Cats

**Herding Cats  
By BookwormDragon**

_**Disclaimer**__: Neither the Harry Potter Universe nor any of the Characters in the Harry Potter Universe belong to me. No profit is made from this story on my part. No copyright infringement is intended._

* * *

Albus Dumbledore snarled impatiently as he paced back-and-forth in front of the large, ornate mirror standing in his private sitting room. Where was the brat?! He should have been there by now!

Quirrell/Voldemort had reached the Final Protection, The Mirror of Erised, nearly an hour ago, but the special proximity alarm that he had set up to warn him when Harry arrived on the scene remained stubbornly silent.

Peering into his scrying mirror, Dumbledore watched as Quirrell/Voldemort threw spell after spell at The Mirror of Erised, trying to get it to reveal its secrets with no success. Dumbledore snorted softly as he watched his erstwhile Professor's ineffectual attempts. He could have told him that it was useless.

While Dumbledore may have planned most of the security for protecting the Stone, Nicholas had insisted on casting the final protection spells himself. He had set the Wards that tied the Stone to the Mirror so that, other than its rightful owner, only someone who sought the Stone with a true understanding of its nature but with absolutely no desire to use it could retrieve it from the mirror.

Given the nature of the Stone, such a person would be very difficult to find. After all, who wouldn't want to live a very long and healthy life with all the Gold you might ever need? Finding someone who understood what the Stone was capable of and yet had not even the slightest desire to use it was...unlikely, to say the least.

Even Dumbledore himself could not retrieve the Stone now – given his increasing age and slowly declining health, he was naturally tempted to use it to allow himself more time to watch his plans for the future of the Wizarding World come to pass.

Only for the Greater Good, of course.

The Wizarding World still needed his wisdom and guidance to lead them in the right direction – he would never use the Stone for selfish purposes, after all.

However, Nicholas' Wards didn't make any allowances for such motivations, as he had already discovered. Rather short-sighted of the man, but then Nicholas had never really seen the importance of looking at the big picture.

Thanks to his old mentor's blasted stubbornness, Albus had been forced to alter his plans a bit, but he was confident that they would still work – Harry had passed all the tests that Albus had arranged for him so far.

The boy had no great need for wealth – he was already quite wealthy, especially from an eleven-year-old's point of view – and he had shown none of the unbecoming lust for gold that so many children his age displayed these days: Hagrid's report on his reaction to seeing his trust Vault had been most satisfactory. Given what the Mirror had betrayed concerning his greatest wish – his family, not things, money, or fame – it was clear that the child had his priorities straight. As for desiring a semblance of immortality – well, Harry was still young enough that he didn't quite grasp the fact of his own mortality. One had to understand the meaning of Death before one could truly desire eternal life, after all.

He had planned everything so carefully, and if the brat didn't show up soon, it would all be ruined! Arranging for Hagrid to pick up the mysterious package on the same day that he took Harry shopping, paying a foolish and over-confident thief to break into Gringotts shortly after the package had been removed from the Vault in order to draw the attention of the media, making sure that Hagrid overheard the right things at the right time, carefully shifting the Wards to allow the possessed Quirrell access to the castle, convincing Nicholas that Voldemort really was a threat to his and his wife's safety as long as they had the Stone nearby, planning every step of the Stone's 'security', dropping little 'clues' practically into the boy's lap, suggesting the specific defenses to each teacher while at the same time leading them to believe that those defenses were merely a last resort – a backup plan in case the powerful wards they believed that he would cast somehow failed. That had been an especially difficult part of the plan: he had needed to walk a careful line between impressiveness and difficulty. The defenses couldn't be too easy or the Professors and even Harry himself might suspect something, but at the same time they couldn't be so difficult that a determined and clever eleven-year-old boy couldn't get past them. He needed to get a reliable idea of the boy's talents, skills, and powers, and he was confident that the obstacles he had finally decided upon would help with that.

Really, this little adventure he had planned for Harry would serve several purposes for him: it would provide him with the chance to gain true control over the Philosopher's Stone – Nicholas was far too stingy with it as it was, and possession was nine-tenths of the Law, after all; it would give him the opportunity to evaluate Harry's abilities; it would allow the first of many confrontations between Harry and Voldemort to take place in a controlled environment; it would increase his own influence over Harry by helping the boy understand just how dangerous Voldemort was to him; and – since Dumbledore planned to step in at just the right moment – it would encourage the boy to look to him for protection and guidance.

Of course, none of this could actually take place if the blasted boy didn't even have the decency to bloody well show up when he was supposed to!

Sometimes, dealing with teenagers was like herding cats: bloody impossible!

* * *

**Author's Note:** The best laid plans of mice and men…

I always wondered how things might have gone if Harry had believed his teachers. I mean, do you really think that Vines, Chess Sets, and Flying Keys were all that were protecting the Stone? Given some of the protective magics we see in the later books, this would make no sense. So why the poor protections? Why have the Stone in a school at all?

And you know how much I hate Dumbledore, so of course I had to make it all into an evil Grand Conspiracy. :)


	9. Hubris

**Hubris  
By BookwormDragon**

_**Disclaimer**__: Neither the Harry Potter Universe nor any of the Characters in the Harry Potter Universe belong to me. No profit is made from this story on my part. No copyright infringement is intended.

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_

There is little doubt that Fate is a Bitch. But in her natural state, she is not an unnecessarily cruel one.

Yes, she wove the Destiny of one green-eyed human boy. Yes, it was a future filled with trials and suffering. But she did not do so lightly, and she armed her little Chosen One with the weapons and resources he would need to have a fair chance against his Fated Opponent, if he chose to use them.

Balance was a part of Destiny, after all.

And then, the Meddling One took her little Champion. Step by step, piece by piece, he ripped away the weapons which She had provided. Relentlessly, he hammered away at the Child's Fate-given Gifts. He blunted the knives, bound the courage, shattered the shields, softened the swords, and broke the arrows. He worked diligently until nothing remained but the resigned and defenseless core.

Finally, he sent the now-defenseless Chosen One out to face his Fated Opponent.

Such hubris this Mortal displayed, to meddle so in the affairs of the Gods.

Fate stepped in, of course. She changed the rules, so that both Opponents would once again have an equal chance of winning. The scales had to be balanced, somehow. It was only fair.

Now, however, the arrogant Meddling One was in _Her _Realm. He had once twisted and despoiled the Gift which She had graciously bestowed upon his world. Now, She would do the same to him.

Not for him the peace of the Elysian Fields or the torments of the Underworld. No, he had forfeited any right to such privilege when he stuck his nose into matters which were none of his concern. Such arrogance could not go unpunished, and She had plans for him which would soon have him begging for the pleasant torments of Hade's deepest, darkest pits.

The punishment should fit the crime, after all. It was only fair.


End file.
